Harlequin
by she who flies
Summary: Wherein Cloud is not a courtesan but Sephiroth is still a General. Welcome to the King's Ball. Seph/Cloud, girl!Cloud.
1. Harlequin

**Title:** Harlequin

**Summary:** Wherein Cloud is not a courtesan but Sephiroth is still a General. Welcome to the King's Ball. Seph/Cloud, girl!Cloud.

**A.N.:** In honor of Asuka Kureru and makokitten, without whom this story wouldn't even exist, much less be here on FFnet. On the other hand, this is _all their fault_. Personally, I still can't believe I was trying to write chick lit.

* * *

The castle's main hall was supposed to be beautiful. It was draped in silk and golden finery, it was glamorous.

It was _gaudy_, Cloud thought behind a well-practiced smile.

She was dressed to match, tonight: her dress velvet, low-cut to emphasize her (very modest) cleavage, tight on her corseted torso to show off her curves, a shade of rich purple that was supposed to somehow "bring out" her eyes. The dress was, according to the women she asked, absolutely decadent – which was a good thing, since that was exactly the impression she wanted to give. She needed to fit in.

The jewelry she wore finished the ensemble. Of course it was all glass, but it _shone_, and that was the important bit.

She was somewhere between amused and disgusted at the whole costume: mostly disgusted, but all that she asked was that it did its job, and then she could be away from this dangerous place and these ridiculous clothes. All that they need to be complete, in her opinion, was that the rings were hollow so she could put poison inside, and the thought made her smile. She'd be much less annoyed at the size of the things if they _did_ have poison inside, because then they'd be more useful, but as it was the reason she had chosen them like this, rather than tastefully discreet, was that they'd make good brass knuckles in a fight.

But alas, the poison rings were too well-known, these days. No, she was keeping her poison in a brooch, hidden on the inside of the outrageous dress.

Cloud wasn't usually a courtesan, though she'd been told she was pretty enough to pass for one – if she did something about that crazy hair, and stopped working out so hard, and put on some weight, and _then_ they could start on her manners. All in all it seemed like too much trouble for a life far too full of subtleties and complications and, frequently, unhappiness, and Cloud was rarely ever in the mood to deal with so much nonsense.

(She had found unhappiness enough in her own life already.)

It was unusual for Cloud to be thus dressed, and it was unusual for Cloud to be acting like this, but it was not at all unusual for the ballroom in the castle to be thus decorated and filled: the current King, for all his shrewdness and political savvy, had become more and more open about his liking for opulence and indulgence. The court, said certain people, was _absolutely decadent_ nowadays (always said with emphasis on the "absolutely decadent", the tone ranging from severely disapproving to secretly delighted). And among those people were the ones who had decided they would no longer stand for it. But of course they wouldn't do anything _themselves_ – not in the sense that they were willing dirty their own hands. They were too discreet or too afraid to do that, but they were willing to pay someone to do so in their place, and therefore Cloud was being welcomed into the Castle for a ball meant to invite whores, dressed to match and carrying poison with her.

Granted, she'd be much happier entering through the back door, dressed as a servant and carrying a blade instead. Maybe several blades, just for safety. But even when the King's General was away, there were too many excellent watchdogs within the palace to risk such a plan.

* * *

The first thing she noticed upon entering the ballroom was that all the information she's been given about the place's security was now absolutely useless. She would have wondered how could her information be this wrong, and if she had been set up somehow and this was actually a trap – if she hadn't seen the man sitting at the side of the King, watchful eyes scanning everybody who passed through the door.

…truthfully, he was hard to miss.

General Sephiroth was well-known across the continent as one of the greatest fighters that had ever been born, as a strategist without equal, as a ridiculously handsome son-of-a-bitch. She had to admit she still hadn't quite expected it, however – word of mouth said he had silver hair, and she had been expecting him to look strange and out of place.

He certainly looked strange – he looked as strange as an elven prince would, standing in the middle of a gathering of mortals. She would never expected anyone to look so handsome, so regal, so otherworldly.

When she realized she was in danger of staring, she huffed – annoyed with herself, she knew better than this, she was better than this – and turned away. Until she felt eyes on her. And, searching, felt it was him.

Annoyed still, and with her pride smarting, she turned again and held his eyes, defiant, not quite realizing what the surprise in his eyes meant until it was too late. By the time she turned away again, she knew the mission might be ruined. She had acted, somehow, just a bit differently than the usual, and she had his interest now.

* * *

For the first hours of the ball, she thought she'd managed to slip by unnoticed after all. Aside from the occasional thoughtful look in her direction, the General seemed to leave her alone; and none of the guards seemed to pay her any attention.

It was, however, all but impossible to approach the King unnoticed. She noticed how he was quietly kept to well-known courtesans, and who she assumed to be his regulars; she noticed how the guards didn't linger on her or anybody else, but didn't pass anybody over either. She had been quite prepared to poison other people besides the King, but she saw now that such a ploy wouldn't work, either.

The security here was too good. Of course, the presence of General Sephiroth must be very encouraging to his men – just as it was a great deterrent to her. By now, the only true chance she had to succeed would be to sneak into the King's bedroom while he was occupied, and she doubted the King wouldn't be well-guarded even then.

This was ridiculous. The mission had been a bust from the beginning; now it was time to just cut her losses and go.

She disliked the idea intensely – it hurt her pride, and she was naturally stubborn besides. So she stayed and observed long past the point of prudence, looking for that one weak point that would allow her to complete her mission. She kept herself amused by keeping track of the General, who seemed to be very much annoyed by all the attention being showered upon him. The only person who made his cold eyes soften was a young man with spiky black hair and an easy smile, who regularly talked to him and often made him smile.

She idly wondered if they were lovers. She hoped not; the young man had been looking at her with assessing eyes for a while now, and she was in no mood to be either the victim of the jealously of a lover or the target of an offer for a threesome. …Not tonight, at least.

* * *

It was after being pestered by the black-haired young man yet again that the General suddenly got up and started making his way towards her. Cloud allowed herself a small moment of panic before assessing the situation: it wouldn't do to try and make her way out _now_; if she got caught now, it would be her own damn fault for staying so long.

(Except it would be the fault of whoever sent her on this damned mission too, and she swore that if she got caught here and now she'd break out and hunt her employers down. And make them _suffer_.)

He reached her.

He bowed, and asked her for a dance. (On the other side of the room, the black-haired young man was grinning proudly.)

* * *

Dancing with Sephiroth was nothing short of amazing. Cloud supposed, vaguely, that they were just compatible, seeing as she had never had quite such a strong reaction to merely dancing. They talked, a bit, enough to get a feel for each other; they danced, moves perfectly synchronized, disregarding the stares and whispers that followed them.

A part of Cloud was metaphorically smacking herself and moaning about the attention of others and the evils it brought. The rest of Cloud was thoroughly enjoying the night and telling herself to shut up already.

And so it was that when Sephiroth suggested they head back to his bedroom, she had a moment to think of her mission, and another to think _I am not being paid enough for this shit_, and another to say _yes_.

* * *

What shall be said of their night together?

Neither of them bothered with niceties or the motions of seduction. They were on each other before the door had fully closed, and if there was tenderness in their movements it is safe to say that it was incidental. They were almost fully clothed for their first joining, both of them too impatient to get the clothes off safely; there'd be time enough for that later.

When they did get around to taking off the clothes, they did it slowly, each hungrily looking at the other. Let it not be said, however, that they looked at the other and thought of anything but their own pleasure. Let it not be said that when she rode him she was setting the pace for his sake; let it not be said that when he pushed into her body he was careful because he was thinking of her comfort.

Neither of them were gentle persons. There was no romance there.

They had a good night.

* * *

Most morning afters are awkward enough when one of the bedpartners does not find poison in the other's dress.

Unfortunately for Cloud, she woke up, missing the arms that had been around her, to find that said arms had been busy with her dress, finding her brooch, opening it to find the poison inside. She briefly considered throwing a fit over privacy and leaving other people's things alone; then she took a good look at the General's face, decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and brained him with the bedside vase.

The General hadn't been expecting it, which was possibly why she managed to do it. He didn't go down, though he swayed on his feet: her hit had been too weak. She snarled and hit him again, _properly_, this time. He crumpled, and she caught him before he hit the ground, and – with some difficulty, the man was much bigger and heavier than she was – put him on the bed, as quickly as she dared.

She didn't bother putting the bothersome dress back on: she didn't plan on being seen as she left. She stole some of the General's clothing instead, and then left. She was sure he'd raise the alarm as soon as he was awake, and she planned on being at least halfway gone when that happened.

* * *

Sephiroth felt very much like pacing. And like frowning. And like punching something, too, but he controlled himself.

By all reports, his—yesterday's girl (and she had been a girl, not yet a woman) had somehow slipped past his security and left the Castle already. But that mattered little enough. He'd find her again.

She wasn't getting away from him.


	2. the chase begins

**A.N.:** Well, what do you know, I now have a backstory for this fic. Only... it's much darker than the story itself. I'm thinking of writing it anyway, only I might have to put it on a separate file. Any idea for titles?

I'd like to thank everybody who put this story on their alert or favorite list. Special thanks go for those who reviewed!

* * *

How do you run from one of the greatest strategists his piece of the world has ever seen?

She had to use all her tricks, and still he seemed to anticipate her every move. She tried to leave the city the very day she ran from the Castle, and found out all the exits had been blocked. She wound up scaling the wall at a particularly difficult point of access, and still had to deal with guards anyway - granted, she took them by surprise, but it almost seemed like too much trouble to have bothered. She then tried to go to a nice quiet town where there would be less guards to bother her, and found out one of the King's Men was already there on the lookout, and word in small quiet towns travels _fast_. (Well, the last bit she'd known all too well already.)

All the roads were being searched and inspected, and that included the rivers. It was next to impossible to get a tame chocobo without the proper papers, and it was harder still to get into a big city where she'd be able to discreetly restock, and all the while her supplies were steadily running out. She hadn't prepared herself for a—a _siege_, she'd been thinking to travel light and fast.

She ended up going into the wilderness where it was harder to find people and there was food to eat.

She often cursed _him_ for being such a prideful man. She'd just been the messenger of bad news she hadn't even come close to delivering – who'd have thought he'd be so damn serious about catching her? And there was, of course, a small voice in her head that told her: _none of this would be happening if you hadn't slept with him_, but this little voice was not hard at all to silence, and she didn't even have to argue with it or come up with justifications. The truth was simply that she couldn't bring herself to regret a single moment of that night.

It was a pity that she'd probably never see him again. But she wouldn't let herself be caught.

* * *

Shall we tell his side of the story?

He learnt more about her with each move she made. He learnt more about her with each passing day regardless of whether she made a move or not, because he'd used his pull and called in some favors and the best spies and information gatherers of the country were now focusing on the girl who went into the Castle looking to kill its King and fell into its General's bed instead.

That's the first thing he made sure to find out: what was she after? And no matter how many times he told himself that the answer made a difference, he was not sure how much of a difference it actually made. He knew he should be worried when finding out she was after the King did nothing but make him wonder why he seemed to be so attracted to crazy people.

(So much for hoping she was a lady of the night, more used to poisons than blades. But then, he'd known that wasn't her case from the moment he took her into his arms and felt her compact body against his.)

Usually a single assassin wouldn't merit so much attention: she hadn't been a traitor, she hadn't managed to complete her mission, he didn't need her to tell him who had sent her (although he very much doubted she'd know that the whole attempt had been ultimately orchestrated by the Prince Rufus, not that this piece of information would be making its way to the King – the man could probably figure it out on his own, anyway).

He knew the general opinion was that he was chasing her because she had managed to escape him: the most common theory seemed to be that she'd stolen something off his room and managed to thus incur his wrath. (But she did incur his wrath. Nobody knocks him out and gets away with it, Miss Cloud. And for someone who stayed so long at the ball she was turning out to be rather good at running; when he caught up he was going to chain her to the bed—dungeons. He was going to chain her to the _dungeons_.)

There was, of course, the matter of what he'd really do when he got her. The truth was he didn't quite know. There were those in the Castle who knew her true profession, and besides he knew now that she regularly practiced male arts and crossdressed. His having anything to do with her would be enough of a scandal without adding in the fact that he was currently using army resources to find her. Unfortunately, he found himself caring very little, and he rather fancied that she would care even less.

* * *

_He'd had a smirk buried in his voice but a serious face as he'd asked, "So, is the lady here on business or pleasure?"_

_She'd raised an eyebrow and smirked back, making no effort to hide it. "I'll thank you to drop the 'lady'. And aren't we girls so often here on both accounts?" Then, after a moment, her smirk softening into a smile: "I was here on business."_

_He made no effort to stop himself from smiling back. "I can't help but notice the past tense."_

_She kept smiling at him, feeling glad to be there._


	3. Zack's side

**A.N.:** Okay, this update is for sanctum, who left me a lovely review that, a loooong time after the fact, _still_ makes me blush ever so slighly.

I'm very, very sorry that you guys had to wait this long. I wanted to write more, but the story isn't cooperating. (Don't worry, it isn't dead, it's just... hibernating.) As for the backstory I mentioned, it's pretty much planned out, but right now I can't write it. *sigh*

Here is what Zack thinks of this whole mess.

* * *

Zack didn't know if he should be feeling proud or pissed about the latest turn of events. So he settled for feeling both. He was proud for having been able to pick out the one woman Seph would actually take an interest in, he was proud of Seph for having had fun with her, he was even (bizarrely) proud of the girl herself for being so damn kickass. (Ha, he'd always known the "wilting flower" type wouldn't do anything for Seph, no matter what everybody said.) On the other hand, he was pissed at himself for encouraging Seph to take an interest in someone who'd run, and he was pissed at her for running, and he was even pissed at himself for not being there to catch her, somehow. (Why should he care that she was an assassin? The important thing was that she'd gotten Sephiroth to trust her and then, however accidentally, broken that trust. The important thing was that she'd hurt him.)

Plenty of women wanted to be the one Sephiroth would choose. They sighed and imagined a thousand little stories in which he loved them, and protected them, and saved them from imaginary evils. They imagined a man he was not: secretly tender and sensitive, someone who'd whisper sweet nothings in their ears and swear eternal devotion. Zack shouldn't blame them for their fantasies, he knew: they didn't know any better, since they'd never gotten to know Sephiroth. They'd never had the opportunity (or the will, and that Zack had a problem with). There were also plenty of women who liked to imagine themselves on his arm in public, watching everybody's faces and laughing to themselves, and those were the ones Zack hated. (Nothing wrong with a few delusions of grandeur, not at all – it was just the part where they saw his friend as a stepping stone that irked him to no end.)

It figured that Seph would choose the _one_ woman in the party who _didn't_ want to be rescued from her life. And Zack couldn't bring himself to feel guilty that he was angry at her for not wanting that rescue. Usually that wouldn't be such a big deal – usually that would be a _good_ thing, that the girl only wanted some fun before going on her way. It would mean that he and Seph wouldn't have to deal with even the shadow of a scandal, with the constant attempts of contact from somebody Sephiroth was no longer interested in. It would mean another person they could be comfortable around. And maybe Zack could have met her again, and if he liked her that much he'd bring her to meet Sephiroth again, in another setting this time, and maybe that way they'd get another… friend, a friendly acquaintance at least, someone around whom Seph would be able to relax his guard.

The first problem with that scenario, of course, was that Sephiroth was still _very much_ interested in her. And even Zack didn't know _why_ he was interested – for all he knew, Seph would execute the girl as soon as he got his hands on her. But Zack had never seen his friend determined to execute someone before; it was equally likely he'd go down on a knee and propose. (…okay. Okay, no it wasn't. But at least he'd gotten a few laughs out of the absurd image, and he could even see the stupefied look in the girl's face; he could picture it so clearly because it would be the same look Seph had given him so many times before, the look that Seph would give him should he walk up to him and start counseling him on the best ways to propose to such a skittish girl.)

And _of course _Seph had to go and get interested in an assassin girl. If it turned out she'd been trying to use Seph, Zack swore he would get rid of her. Seph would come around, eventually. He was kind of angry at her for being an assassin too, after all – so many things she could have been, a thief or a whore or a maid or whatever, and she turned out to be the most dangerous of them all. The only way this could be worse would be if she were a spy, and Zack couldn't be sure she wasn't a spy _as well_.

Damn it. He'd _liked _her.

He'd been the one to encourage Seph to approach her, because he'd been impressed at the way she'd held his friend's gaze, at the way she looked back levelly at him when he'd checked her out; he'd liked the color of her eyes and the easy grace of her movements, the confidence in the sway of her walk – not sophisticated, not elegant like many nobles and courtesans and famous beauties, but she walked like she knew exactly where to be even while she stalled; she walked like no one would, could stand in her way, and heaven help those who did.

She walked, therefore, like himself. Like Sephiroth.

She'd been wearing riding boots under the long skirt of her purple dress, he remembered, and scowled as he realized that the memory had made him smile. (_Someone_ needed to keep their head around here.)

He knew now that her grace was the result of an entirely different kind of training than the one most women had, that her walk wasn't the only similarity to the two of them – she'd knocked out a couple of guards in her escape from the Castle, three more leaving the city, and she was apparently brilliant with a sword.

It was also interesting that she hadn't killed any of the guards so far. It was harder to disable someone than to kill them, but maybe she knew that killing his men would harden Sephiroth, would up the game. Zack liked her better for avoiding other people's deaths, and was annoyed at himself for liking her even a bit more before he'd had time to verify her actual intentions. Not as annoyed as he was for throwing her and Seph together, though.

If he hadn't nagged at Sephiroth so much, he'd never have danced with her, never have invited her to his bed, never have fallen so furiously and so fast for a mystery he couldn't quite manage to hold down. So Sephiroth's current obsession was as much Zack's fault as hers, and Zack had always taken responsibility for his actions. Though honestly, he would be doing all this even if he'd had nothing at all to do with it. Because Sephiroth wanted this girl.

And Sephiroth so rarely wanted anything at all.


End file.
